


Fated Destiny

by Missingartist



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missingartist/pseuds/Missingartist
Summary: Requested on tumblrgeralt x reader soulmate unwilling to find each other, you can do whatever you want for the story. I know this sentence mean a lot in the tv show “people linked by destiny will always find each other”Geralt/Reader Soulmate OneshotFirst attempt at Smut
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 199





	Fated Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Request are Open so feel free to request a story :) Let your imagination run wild!  
> My smut will get better!

'People linked by destiny will always find each other'

The words etched into your skin since your birth. It burnt at first, even after a lifetime you could still remember the searing, the burning, the begging for it to end. The priestess had told you that it meant your bond was strong, the strongest they had ever seen. That had not been very comforting in your heats, with no lover or soulmate to pull you through; those times were harrowing and hard. Still, the priestess had been proud of a Valkyrie to have a soulmate, the stuff of dreams you were told. It made you almost laugh; you were never a romantic, a realist if anything, the scowled you received at the hands of the High Priestess herself were legendary. So few Valkryie receive such an honour and those who kept them after were few and far between. The High Priestess would repeat time and time again that destiny would prevail. Even now, you could clearly recall the sound of her voice as she bared down at you from her throne in the temple. When you ascended from Swan Maiden to Valkyrie, she had been destroyed that you chose to stay at the temple as advisor and teacher.

Staying in Valhalla was practical, there were so few of them remaining that they need sturdy teachers, who else could teach the old ways, then who would carry the slaughtered through to the next world, guard the weak and vulnerable, help the unfortunate. There were times you regretted it; you were not above the idea of love and a family, only a soul bond could grant that for a Valkyrie to free of her duties and allow the gods to grant fertility. Yet, sacrifices had to be made, and you would never had made a good soulmate, too much of a reader, too bookish, too dull. Those were the taunts that were whispered behind your back, the jeers and isolation who received at the hand of your so-called friends in arms, the other swan-maidens. So you remained in the temple bound to your duty, honouring the dying and the fallen.

But in saying that, sometimes you would fantasise. He would be a fierce warrior, skilled in his craft, bathed in blood and at the same time kind with a loving smile and warm arms that would encircle you. Your dreams kept you company in the lonely nights in the library, and that was enough because you knew, no matter what the books said about soulmate, it was romanticised, no one could love another like that, not even your parents, too afraid of her daughters mark to keep her, so instead offer her to the Temple of the Valkyrie.

‘Y/N…’ A voice called you back into the present as your friend, and mentor Edda entered the vast library, gliding across the marble in her white silk dress. Elegant and poised as ever, she had ascended when she was nearing 40, but she was easily one of the most beautiful maidens in the temple, graceful and slim bodied. 

‘We have been called to the throne room; it’s the High Priestess, she has called an emergency meeting.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
‘Ahhhh Edda and Y/N so glad you could finally honour us with your presence.’ The High Priestess chirped, standing in the middle of the throne room.  
Including you, 27 Valkyrie’s stood silently around the edge of the circular hall, some in temple dress of white silk and bright gold metal, hair twisted in place immaculately. Others, in armour, battle dress, plated metal and hardened leather, adorned with the finest steel swords and bows, glittered shield strapped to there backs. Both sides of the Valkyrie were so different. Light and dark. Life and death. Contrasting, but the different sides of the same coin.

‘My children…I fear our age is coming to an end. We have become less and less, humans kill us, haunt us when all we have done is serve them. Till we are the few that remain, if we perish then the Valkyrie is no more. I cannot allow this to happen. The humans have turned, just as they did with the Elfs. Kings mad with power deem themselves beyond us. Some have outlawed magic altogether, train witch hunters to track and kill all things magic. Our temple can stand no longer silent when our brother and sisters are tortured and burnt at the stake. Tissaia de Vries, Rectoress of Aretuza, has pleaded for our help and we can no longer linger at the side of the battlefield. We are Valkyries, shield maidens, defenders, and we do not hide. WE WILL fight. If any of you do not agree, go forth from my halls, I will hold no ill will. But daughters, I beseech you. Fight with me.’ 

Your eyes did not move from her, her golden hair shining in the light, creating a hallow around her as she moved. No one moved, no one breath till the High Priestess has a sharp nod and ascended the throne. 

‘Men have forgotten what it is to be afraid. We will bring fear. Shall we begin?’ The voice of the High Priestess run out deadly across the room as you received your orders.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
With that you found yourself posted to the mortal lands, you still found yourself standing in awe as you past some wonder or another. Skellige had a savage beauty to it, dark greens and blues, mix with the earthy tones of browns and greys. The people for all their ferocious talk and gruff nature were warm and welcoming; few knew your true visage, but that didn’t seem to matter. They welcomed your help with open arms, clothed and feed you. 

Your Pegasus, a pure white mare, its wings tucked secretly away at her side as she trotted merrily through the worn path. You had picked her personally from a litter, the runt; you had nursed it yourself, fed it day and night for weeks, will it was strong enough to train and since then you were inseparable. You had flown into battle with her, sprinted through meadows, guarded Kings with your faithful Pegasus at your side. 

You had been travelling for days, across Skellige to reach here, the gates of Crach an Craite’s castle, Kaer Tolde. It stood tall and imposing above the sea and waves broke violently against the cliff wall. The stone was a dark grey, but vibrant green ivy climbed the stone, giving it an almost picturesque quality. You hated to admit it but coming to earth had made you realise how much you hate the pristine halls and celestial keeps, you like the imperfect, the grim and the grotesque. Nothing had to be perfect to be beautiful. 

A tall, powerful man in traditional garb stood in the middle of the keep, a band of gold surrounded his head, making him almost King-like, a powerful Jarl to be sure.

‘Hail Virtuous Valkyrie, my home is yours for as long as you need.’ The Jarl stepped forward bowing nearly in respect. 

‘I thank you, noble Jarl, but just Y/N is fine. My High Priestess thanks you for you tributes. I am at your service.’ You grinned as you stepped forward, clunch his forearm in a Northan handshake. 

‘Ahhhhh you with your pretty words. Come I have had the maids prepare a room for you. There is someone I think you have been waiting a long time to meat ’ The Jarl laughed as he gestured you into the castle. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
The room was comfy, autumn colours warmed the room, while a fire softly roared by the hearth. It was not as grand as the rooms at the Temple, but in its rustic charms, it felt more homely than any rooms you had ever slept it. You made your way, thought the larges corridors to the feasting hall, it wasn’t hard to figure out where you were going, just follow the noise of roaring cheers that reverberated across the castle. The hall was full of merry people, laughing and cheering, songs rude enough to make a sailor blush. It was outrageous, and you loved it. Weiving you way through the crowd you pitched a flagon from a pasting steward toward your host, who stood in conversation with a group of white-haired men and a woman. 

‘Ahhhh Geralt, Vesemir, Ciri this is Y/N, the Valkyrie I have the honour of hosting’ Crach beamed as he hoisted his horn aloft draining the vessel in one gulp, droplets of mead, gathering in his beard.  
‘Greetings fair warrior maiden, humble Witchers are ever given such an honour’ the oldest man, bowed, revealing two swords strapped to his back, ever ready it would seem. 

‘I have never met a Valkyrie before, is it true you ride a flying horse?’ The women Ciri grinned across at you, amused. 

A laugh formed in your belly and escaped from your lip before you could fight it back, ‘It is, mine is called Slugger, he often has to roll with the punches, if you want you could come on a ride. She loves to show off. But the honour is mine; Witcher’s are famed throughout the hall of the temple they are very coveted, I believe many of my sisters have a favourite Witcher they protect and guard against harm.’ You teased, taking a sip of the honeyed mead, savouring the taste on your tongue.

‘Hmmm,’ the last Witcher hummed but remained silent, looking boredly at the floor.

‘I never realised you all had different coloured irises.’ You beamed before turned your attention to the silent man's eyes; they were a stunning amber, flecks of gold run through them, along with burnt oranges and saffrons.’ You smiled ‘Your eyes are beautiful.’ 

The group smiles vanished, replaced by shocked stares. You blinked quickly, eyes snapping from Witcher to Witcher. You had never meant a Witcher before; it had never occurred to you that they may have some kind of etiquette to them. From the tales that spread across the temple, they fought hard and played harder, any coined they earnt was spent on wine and women, they didn’t seem the kind of people easily offended. 

Pursuing your lips in a quick apology they stopped as the Witcher’s lips twitched into something resembling a strained smile, it looked neither happy or unhappy just impassive.  
‘People linked by destiny will always find each other.’ The man grunted, his bulky form vibrating at the sound. 

A shiver through her body and to her core at the sound of his gruff tone. Immediately, your hand flew to cover your forearm, where your mark was held, just above the artery to her heart, in fear that your gauntlet had come off. The gauntlet that had covered your arm the last 50 years, shielding the mark from the world and you. The man's eyes didn’t leave yours as your thoughts raced a thousand miles a minute. The feeling you felt were conflicted, guilt for not find him sooner, for finding him and shattering what he had already made of his life. Happiness at not being alone, soulmates were meant to compliment the other physically and mentally, to meld into one to create the most potent force, unstoppable. A magnetism pulled you to him, powerful and commanding. 

‘By the gods…. I never thought you would hear your word Geralt. You have no idea how much shit I used to give him about those words. Beautiful eyes….huh this grumpy bastard.’ The drunken Jarl boomed. 

The other Witchers laughed and raised their drink; however, the ashen haired women observed you curiously, through light green eyes, cat-like, only distracted when behind you a couple of warriors began to brawl causing a chain reaction. Within seconds the whole room erupted in chaos, beer and mead splashed against the walls, teeth spilt out across the floor and the sound of flesh against flesh cracked across the room. Blade where unsheathed and the clash of metal pierced the air. By the time Ciri’s eyes came back to find you, you were gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The roar of the fight had long ago since died down and the roar of laughed was once again back. Your feet aimlessly wandered the castle for the last hour; you weren’t really sure where or what you were doing, the only thing you could hear was his voice repeating your words over and over, like honeyed silk in your head. You never thought he would be this attractive, tanned marble skin paired with white hair pinned back revealing chiselled features. His body was 6ft5 of honed muscle, and in his armour, he was more than impressive, no wonder he was a favourite among the Valkyrie’s.

‘You know I’m not going to let you leave. Not till you let me ride Slugger. I don’t think Geralt would either, but I think he has a rather different idea of riding.’ Ciri’s voice cut through the chilly night air.  
The young women sat cross-legged on a bench at the end of the hall. You stood hesitantly lingering in the middle of the hall observing her; she was expressive and kind, her face told everything. It was a gorgeous face, but her eyes were the main feature, framed in thick charcoal, with a smoky eye effect. 

‘I never believed it when Crach said a Valkyrie had Geralt words. Apparently, your High Priestess is important to get you bonded. Had to see it myself, never thought you would be so cool. Is that really a G'valchir sword- I heard they penetrated anything.’ 

‘It is, and it does. I'll let you practice with it later…perhaps we can spare tomorrow morning.’ You smiled tightly, coming closer.

‘I don’t think Geralt going to be letting you leave that room anytime soon. Don’t worry Crach removed everyone from this wing. I don’t think he wanted a raging Witcher roaming the halls. It's going to fun having you to hang around with.’ Ciri giggled, hopping off the bench and out the window.

The world had lost all normality. This morning you where a wandering Valkyrie, burden with aiding an uneven war and now you were confused. It couldn't be real, just some surreal daydream, fueled by a bad reaction to mead, you just need to sleep and tomorrow would back to normal. Soulbond forgotten. Pushing your way into your room, you fell against the back of the door and let out a puff of breath, as you removed your breastplate and threw it onto the bed, rolling your neck, groaning as you felt the stratifying clicks and began to unbuttoning your undershirt. Only stopping when you saw a mans armour on the dresser.

‘I thought you were going to run away, though I was going to have to track you down….I am a little disappointed not to have a hunt. I think that would start my rut off.’

Geralt of Rivia was lounging on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire, shirt half-open, chest hair teasingly peaking out from a rock hard chest, just as tanned as his face. Why was he in your room?  
‘What…What are you doing here? These are my rooms.’

‘Hmmm,’ The Witcher grunted. 

You stood in silence for several more minutes, his eyes hungrily devouring you, his predator eyes taking in every inch of you, his head tilted to the side, giving you a beautiful view of his neck. Perfect to bite, to suck, to mark. You could feel a familiar tingle travel through her body; wetness pooled between your thighs as gazed down at him. You wanted to say something, anything, but every time you opened your mouth, no words would form.

Swallowing hard, you spoke. ‘What are you doing in my room.’

‘Our rooms. Crach had my things moved in while we were at the feast. Think he thought it was more…. convenient.’ The Witcher smirked as he raised himself up on one arm. 

‘What are you doing here?’ 

‘I stopped running. You can’t outrun destiny just because you’re terrified of it. I was coming for you. I have always been coming for you.’ Geralt purred, standing elegantly, his full height was impressive and intimidating, he crossed the room in two long strides. 

You scrabbled across the bed and darted across to the fireplace. Now the light was to the back of you; his features were more prominent, highlighted by the flickering flames, that licked up the fireplace. Geralt’s shirt was now fully open, revealing the sheer power of his chest, perfectly toned by battles and training, the odd scar decorated his body. No wonder he was so converted, your sisters were going to be green with envy when they found out he was yours.

‘I…. We…You’ 

Before you mouth could catch up with your mind, you found yourself pin to the furs that laid across the floor in front of the blazing fire. The Witcher hovered over you, eyes searching your face, his large hands gripping your hips as the rest of his length held your body in place. Without hesitation, you curled your legs across his thighs and twisted, switching your position, your knees stretched to pin his hips to the floor, it was an easy advantage, from here you could place pressure on his weak point and for a brief moment escape. As you moved back, though the flimsiness of your riding pants you could fill his hardness pressing against your wet core. You had never felt anything close to this pleasure from the briefest contact. You had tried to bring your self through the heats, the touches where only enough to stave off the pain for a short while, necessary but not pleasurable. 

Biting your soft plush lip, you attempted to hold back a groan, as you moved again. Your grip loosened as you caught yourself gentle grinding against the Witcher. His hands slowly travelled up your thighs to rest on your round bottom, pushing his chest up and once against resting above her. You stared nervously up at him, all thoughts lost, he smelt like mint and spice, it overwhelms your senses. Geralt pulled back, peeling off his black undershirt and tossing it clear across the room. Your eyes following the masterpiece of his muscles as they moved. Tentatively, you let your hands brush across his skin with feathered touches, feeling his muscles tighten and relax under your fingertips. 

‘I have never been with a man.’ Y/N gasped.

What sounded like a growl feel from his lips, as he kissed his way down your body ‘You are mine’ Kiss. ‘You are only ever gonna be mine’ Kiss. ‘ To kiss, to make love to, to fuck, suck,’ Kiss ‘to finger and touch’ Kiss ‘to tease and bring to the brink of ruination.’Kiss ‘Just like I am yours.’

The sight of the golden skin man between your legs was too much as sight to believe, his amber eyes pinned you to the plush fur as his rough fingers tore into the weak fabric of your cotton trousers. The sounds of ripping fabric were deafening and you couldn’t help but let a bright red blush as he caressed your features. No mortal man had ever seen you this bare, the only thing that covered you modestly was a pare of heeled riding boot and a half-opened shirt. Geralt made quick work of the boots, sliding them off your calf letting his fingers massage them and he removed them one by one, throwing them over his shoulder.

The Witcher shifted slowly pulling himself up your body; his eyes were dark with desire, he looked prima. The intensity of his look made you shift away, backwards, into the mound of pillows, the ashen haired man did not climb all the way up to you; instead his torso pinned your hips to the mattress, his strong hands shooting out to encircle your forearms pushing the down onto the bed, totally disabling any chance you had of escaping him. Geralt amber irises completely consumed black with lust eyes turned away from her a began to mouth any piece of skin he could, his hot tongue gliding across her flesh, teeth nipping and gnarling as he went. It was so gentle yet possessive; he groaned as he sucked the plump flesh of her stomach. Geralt nuzzled at you stomach before looking at her, directly into your eyes. You held his gaze, staring into the depths, of the emotion swirling in his honeyed orbs. Angry. Passion. Fear…Love. The outburst of raw emotion was unexpected; it made him look…vulnerable. Something you neer thought a Witcher to be.

Your lump pink lips parted to speak but instead he pulled hoarse cry from your throat instead. His free hand found your most sensitive area, your clit, swirling in the wetness that had already pooled between her legs. It was slow and playful as the tip of your finger mischievously teased your opening. It was a curious feeling, the need for something, anything was unfamiliar and terrifying, to yearn for something this badly. His middle finger sank down into your core. Bliss. It was a totally new sensation; a moan escaped your lips as his mouth suckling on your breast as his thumb teased your clit. Breathy moans escaped your mouth as he withdraw his finger almost entirely before plunging it back in, it was frantic, you felt raw with the to sensation it has made you slick and pliant to him, something he took complete advantage of. After a few more thrusts another finger curled within you, almost hitting the spot within you, the spot you knew he could feel. The stretch felt strange at; first; his fingers were large and thick, almost too much but still, you wanted more, something to build the burning arch that roared inside you. He shifted a little so he was on his side, still pinning you down with his body, angling his hand for better thrusts, his other hand still gripping your forearm, as your hand searched for anything to hold, something to ground you from the feeling bubbling under your skin. Finally, after what seemed like an age, her slender fingers found his muscly shoulders, she could feel his muscles flex beneath her fingertips as they dug into him. 

‘Geralt!’ The tension in your stomach was close to breaking; you could feel it splintering at the force of his actions.

The Witcher rose on his knees taking in your flustered form, a panting mess beneath him. He shed his leather pants so quickly your eyes could not follow his movements. Now he was bare, a true warrior, all muscles and scars. You wanted to spend day upon days worships his body in the old ways, to guide him to the peak of divine pleasure but now his body caged you to the floor, as his black orbs swirled with lust. 

His hard member rested heavily against you, thick and throbbing, he said nothing but slowly sank it deep into you with a swift and strong thrust. A feral groaned grunted through clenched teeth as his eyes fell closed, basking in the tight warmth that surrounded him. The pain was pierced through you; he was so thick you though he had split you in half, instinctively you tried to move away, to shift away from the dull pain but his hips kept you in place.

‘Breath…’ Geralt gritted out through clenched teeth. ‘Tell me to stop and I will’ The rough voice of the Witcher broke out in heavy puff, as he rested his forehead against you. 

The pain subsided quickly to an ache, a need for you to move. Raising your hips, you felt Geralt shift, pulling back slightly and pushing back in, shallow thrusts hitting the sweetest spots. Wanton moans spurred Geralt, his hips picking up pace and force, withdrawing fully before slamming into you again.  
A thin sheen of sweat covered your bodies, moans and grunts filled the room as the fire illuminated them, glancing down you watched with fascination as his cock pushed its way into her tight walls, it was the single most erotic thing you had ever seen. Geralt's thrusts became stronger and stronger, more iritic and with each movement inched you closer and closer to your release.  
‘Geralt….’ Your eyes found his as you pleaded. 

The Witcher shifted his weight on his elbow as he sank close, his cock grinding against your sweet spot, his free hand moving between your bodies to frantically play with your clit. His pace increased, desperate and needy as he chased their release. Your moans turned into screams as you felt the warmth fizzle in your stomach. 

‘Yesssss, Gods, please….Geralt’ Your voice released a hoarse scream as your orgasm rolled through you. Above you, you felt his hips stutter into you, as his teeth bite down into you shoulder and his cock slammed into you once last time as he poured his seed into you. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You awoke sometime later to find Geralt tracing the word on your arm, lazily. Contented eyes smiled up at you; his hair ruffled up in pleasant bed head.

‘Mmmmm this is nice’ you hummed and snuggled into him. ‘Things are going to get complicated now aren’t they.’ You sighed tucking you head onto his chest.

‘Hmmmmm’ Geralt grunted wrapping his arms around you, tightly.


End file.
